Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

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I pressed her to marry me at once, that I might have the right before the world to guard and cherish her, but she would not prove untrue to the vow she made, with her blind father, to suffer naught to interfere with the search for the missing son and brother. “‘T told her that I would join them in the uest, and work all the more faithfully because was looking for a brother, too, but the old man was afraid, and she listened to him, She said that she would marry me the day after the fate of Franz was decided.” ‘*She put the same meaning into a slightly different shape, when she made confession to me,” slowly interjected the widow. ** And she was right,” corrected Frank, flush- ing a little beneath that close and burning gaze. ty She said that until the mystery covering the fate of her brother was forever dispelled, she would never marry!” A low, almost fierce cry escaped the red lips of the woman as she sprung to her feet, her face fairly glowing, her cyes seeming on fire. “That settles it, then! Frank Spartan, it rests with you whether or no the mystery .en- shrouding Franz Moskau is ever lifted!” ‘* What do you mean by that?’ demanded the man, but little less excited, though he strove hard to control himself, ‘‘ Tt means that I have beon a fool—more and worse than a fool, Frank!” she said, her hands tightly clasped before her, the lurid glow still in her eyes, but a far different look upon her face, now pale and strained. ‘It means that I was wild, insane, when I fled from you! It means that even when Iran away, I was loving you more fiercely than ever before in my life! ¥rank—is it too late?” It was no longer acting, but deep, intense earnest. Even he could not doubt this, though his face grew hard and stern again. **T am not quite sure I fully understand you, Mercy.” * Will not, why don’t you say?” with a sud- den outburst of fire. ‘‘ But you “‘must—you shall not have even the shadow of an excuse. It is not the first time we have spoken of love, Frank!” ‘“The past has many sins to answer for, Mrs. Watkins.” A sharp cry parted her lips. ‘* Cold—cold and hard and sneering! It was that that drove me into taking that rash and much regretted step, my love! You drove me wild with your careless indifference, I thought I would spur you into life and action. I lefta lain trail behind me, and I felt sure you would ollow me—then it would all come right again. But you never made a move! Younever took one.step toward recovering me!” ‘Why should I?” with a coldness plainly sin- cere, ‘I was just as glad to lose you as I believed you were to be lost. You killed what I fancied was love, with your petty tantrums. You—but why bring up the past, Mrs. Wat- kins? It is not so pleasant, not so sweet- scented |” She must have seen how utterly dead was the passion, such as that passion had been; dead beyond all resurrection; but she would not even yet abandon all hope. ‘* The present—the future, then! Think ofthat. Think of your oath to discover the fate of this missing man!” “T am thinking of it, and if I could feel even the faintest temptation to bring back our old life, Mercy, that very thought would drive it forever from my mind,” was the quick retort. “Think of her—of this milk-and-water girl whom you fancy you are in love with! Think how she is failing, worn out by this never-ending search—think of what she told me, only this ovening, that she felt she was dying!’ There was a triumphant ring in her voice as she uttered these words, that brought an angry flush to his cheek. Yet he knew that she was only voicing the same fear that had given him such bitter agony of late. He knew that she was speaking no more than the truth. ‘‘Now listen to my last proposition, Frank Spartan,” the widow added, her voice growing - calmer, though her determination seemed even the more settled. ‘‘ I can save this love of yours, I can solve the mystery of her brother's fate, if not by pointing him out in person, by telling you where you can find the one man who can re- veal all—Morris Grant!” “Do that and we will call you blessed!” he im- pulsively cried. A low, hard laugh broke from her lips, one hand flinging out in a scornful, bitter gesture. “That is not my price, Frank Spartan, as ou very well know. But one reward can un- ock my lips, and if you really love this girl, you will not think twice before coming to my terms.” *“She would scorn any such offer, dearly as she loves her brother.” “Of course; that is to be expected,” with a ‘* But itis you lam dealing with, Howling Jonathan. not her. You can see that this blind quest is slowly but surely wearing out her young life. That blind fool will drag her along until she falls into the grave, And you can save her from this! You can give her joy, her blind father the precious boon he craves and starves for. And at what cost to yourself? Surely it is not sucha frightful price to pay, Frank? Surely it will not be so difficult to revive the past? 1 love you so—I will be true and faithful as I can be loving—and you xnow I never lacked on that score, Frank?” Not acting now. In deadly earnest, and with her mad, insane love showing in every line of her face, in her glowing eyes, in her every word. But the man to whom she offered all this grew harder and colder instead of melting as she hoped and prayed. ‘* What you know I can discover, Mrs, Wat- kins, without paying any such exorbitant price. Will you be so kind as to unlock the door? Or shall I break if down?” ** Look out, Frank Spartan!” the widow grat- ed betwixt her tightly clinched teeth. ‘‘ As I love, so I can hate—beyond all bounds! Refuse me now, and it will be the worse for you! It will be a thousand-fold worse for this milk- faced doll! Think twice before you decide, I warn you!” ‘*'You have my answer,” was the cold reply. **T love but one woman, and be sure her nameis not Mrs. Mercy Watkins.” ‘‘ And that woman—shall be the bride of death—never yours !” CHAPTER XI. THE HOWLER UPHOLDS THE LAW. ‘‘ CHOOSE pardnersan’— Now I will be durn- ed!” Slapping his emptied glass on the bar with more force than ceremony, Howling Jonathan Hebrew spun a dollar beside it, then making a dash for another victim as he roared out the command, only to break off with a loud snort of utter disgust as he discovered the absence of the musician. ‘* Ts he gone pard?” hoarsely whispered the red-haired tornado in the ear of his intended artner, wondering awe written on his every ‘eature. ‘‘Is he clean gone, or hes he only gone down into his pocket to look fer a piece 0’ rosum?” ‘Gone slick and clean—good-luck go with him!” was the prompt response, though the latter portion came in a much lower pitch and only when the relieved miner had fairly escaped the grip of Howling Jonathan. Slowly shaking his shaggy head,"paying no at- tention to the laughs which greeted him from all sides, the Howler moved toward the seat where he had last seen Herman Moskau, lifting the chair up and looking at its bottom, at the floor under the table, then turning his eyes upward toward the ceiling. “Gone glimmerin’, shimmerin’ up the golden stairs! Tuck a short cut back to jine in the celestial quier, an’ never left hole, crack nur scratch on the ceilin’ to tell a dumb critter how he did it! Gone from our midst, an’ never so much as left us a lock o’ his ha’r or a note fer us to keep his mem’ry green over! Holy smoke from Abraham’s fricasseed young ‘un! Good Leather must be gittin’ "ligion, less they would n't sech a merricle come to pass inside her cop- peration!” Howling Jonathan shook his head with grave emphasis as he arrived at this conclusion, but there was at least one person present who took a much more practical view of the situation. ‘‘Tt was fun alive while it lasted, but I ain’t sheddin’ no briny ’cause the fiddle’s sloped—I ain’t! I'm puttin’in my time thinkin’ how p’izen lucky we all is that Iceberg Dave didn’t drap in on us while we was hoeing it down, J am!” ‘‘Durn a critter that’d ject to a little honest ’musement like them!” snorted Howling Jona- than, supreme disgust written on his glowing countenance. ‘‘ Iceberg is one o’ my best fri’nds, though I don’t know him from a side o’ smoked bacon, but ef he’s that kind o’ tarrapin, I hain’t got no more use fer him then a greaser hes 0’ uckwheat pancakes fer to git up a scratch!” ‘* Pard,” and the jolly digger solemnly tapped the red-headed cyclone on the arm with one hp fore-finger. ‘‘ Pard, I admire your grit, but I don’t bank a red on your judgment, In other words, ef you're dead-sot on tellin’ iceberg them sentiments, won’t you let me know long enough ahead o’ time so I kin climb a tree?” ‘* Tt’s a whack, pard!” and Howling Jonathan gripped the horny hand of the digger in ardent grip. ‘‘Tll send ye notice, gilt-edged an’ done up in a pink enwollup. An’ ef you don’t see gobs o’ fun, itll be fer reason the fire flashin’ from my two eyes‘ll melt the iceberg to hot water afore I kin git my hooks onto it! It’s Howlin’ Jonathan that tells ye, honey; an’ the ghost of a lie or the shadow of a brag would split his throat so wide open you could use it fer a barn-door!” Little by little the crowd in the saloon proper was thinning out, the majority going back to the tables which they had deserted at the first strain from the blind man’s violin. A few re- mained in the bar-room, gathered in couples or triplets, eagerly discussing the collision which - a — SSS SS pt sts had so recently occurred. And though their Cpinions seemed to be about equally divided as to the merits of the men, it was unanimously agreed that the affair could end only in a fight to the death. This discussion appeared to have little interest in it for Howling Jonathan, and he shortly de- serted the bar for the tables, confidentially ob- serving to the facetious digger with whom he was arm-in-arm: ‘‘ They ain’t no music to me like a fiddle, an’ I’) ruther shake my foot then to eat: but ef I cain’t hev good bread an’ butter, Pll eat fruit- cake afore I'll starve! The fiddle’s collapsed her flues, but the tiger is left ahind. Come an’ see how clean a holy terror from ’way up kin clip the animile’s claws, honey!” Already the two faro lay-outs were well crowded, but the Terror from Headwaters ex- perienced no difficulty in making his way close up to the table. He was already a marked mam in Good Leather, and room was quickly made for him as soon as his voice made itself known. ‘* Bite quick an’ bite deep, gents, ef you don’t want to git up from this lay-out full 0’ empti- ness an’ hunger,” warningly uttered the Holy Terror with a grim determination as he squared himself at the.table, his keen eyes running over the paintcd cards and the silver dealing-box. “Taint often I go fer the menadgery, but when I do, they ain’t even a smell o’ wild meat left ahind me! Pard, that ain’t toppiw’ the limit, I hope?” Howling Jonathan slapped a silver dollar one one of the cards, gazing anxiously into the cold, business-like face of the dealer opEee Not even the ghost of a smile played about his thin, straight lips as the dealer compared the bet with the neat stacks of chips indicating the capital of the bank that night. ‘* A dollar goes, pard, but don’t hit us too oftem with a sledge-hammer like that; give the bank @ living chance, please!” ‘¢ They ain’t no frindship in business, pard,’” said the Howler, gravely shaking his head as he watched the cards slip one by one from the case. ‘*T'd down my own pap ef so be he was settin” on the wrong side o’ the lay-out from me, ef I ota— Didn't I tell ye so?’ with a subdued 10wl, as his stake came winner. ‘“ Luck ag’in” science, an’ ’'m his prophet! Grit your teeth, tiger, but here’s comin’ fer more 0’ your wool. Good Lawd! but ’m on it to-night bigger ’n a wolf!” It was a flagrant violation of all gaming laws, of course, but no one of the players seemed to care enough about their rights to rebuke this rattle-tongue. They knew Jonathan was not all wind. They knew he had shown “‘ good leather ’” in the affair with Captain Clean-up and his gang, to say nothing of the positive manner in which he had made Colonel Joel Mallison ‘‘ take water.’” And while they would, one and all, rephesd enjoy seeing him effectually ‘‘ squelched;” eac preferred to leave that job to some other indi- vidual. . ‘*An still the tide o’ fortune runs my way, smooth as a buzz-saw through the finger o’ the critter as tries to p’int out how ’tarnal fast the teeth is movin’!” chuckled the Howler as his second venture proved equally lucky. ‘It’s a durned shame that I cain’t do my winnin’ ’thout lettin’ you all into the secret o’ my rule, gents, but they won’t be many o’ you that’ll git fat on this bank—no, sir! [I’m a holy hog when I git my nose in a trough filled with grub like this an’ what I leave wouldn’t make a squar’ meal fer the ghost of a flea! The more I eat the hungrier I git. Third time’s the charm, an” you kin begin to unpack your mournin’, pard- ner, fer the bank’s goin’ bu’st this clatter, dead sure!” Solemnly Jonathan slapped two dollars down on the ace, sinking back in his chair, his red cheeks puffed out, his shaggy brows dropping down over his little eyes, his breath coming im short, heavy puffs through his dilated nostrils, But only for a moment did he maintain this ridiculous position, fqr as loud voices suddenly broke out in the saloon, uttering among others the words ‘' coward” and ‘‘ fraud,” the Terror shoved back his seat and “ jumped the game” without a second thought of his mighty stake. Though there “were others who seemed to cave more for “‘fun” than gambling, Howlin Jonathan was the first man to pass. throug the open archway that joined the two apart- ments. . The angry speaker was Perry Blair, the middle-aged gambler whom Frank Sp«rtan had knocked down so cleverly a short time before. He bore the imprint of the iron knuckles still, though it was clear to the initiated that a knife or lance had been called into play to let out the blood that would otherwise have well- nigh closed his eye for him. The livid bruise formed an ugly contrast to bis ghastly white face and his redly glowing eyes. ‘He sent me word that he would meet me here, if I wanted to get even, and now I have come, where is he? Sneaked off like the cow- ardly fraud I pronounced him! Crawled into. his hole to hide from a man! Frank Spartan is a cur! And if he has a friend present who dares to stand up for him, I'll make my word good or—” Gomieboo € S. Cc a